I do not wish to ride again
Within the luxury of youth;
For it was moldy, even then,
And plush with seats unlined with truth,
For I believed, back then, in lies:
Or stories, if you'd rather, since
The world contracts to fit our eyes,
And what once made us blush now makes us
Wince
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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